"Stop reading," ordered the Mama. "Go outside."
I'd probably been lying on the bed reading for three or four hours that sunny summer weekend afternoon. I was probably 12 years old.
That's what the Mama got for buying me a bed with a bookcase headboard. It was packed full with paperback books that I purchased from the monthly Scholastic book catalog during the school year. Three or four dollars bought me a lot of books back then. I shall always be grateful the Mama and the Daddy let me buy so many, and for leaving me alone to read the books over and over most of the time.
Reading was my favorite thing to do in summer, followed by riding bicycles, watching movies, and eating. Except for the bicycle riding, I seem to have slipped back into my once-upon-a-time summer routine. I'm not getting much done, I admit. And, yes, my clothes are feeling snug. Again.
I really do need to urge me to step outside and do something. There's still time today to water the flowers in the backyard, or pick up all the apples and lemons that have dropped off the trees, or rake the leaves, or put everything back in the shed, or . . . .
Maybe I'll take my book outside with me as incentive. After each thing I finish, I can read a chapter.
I'm a grown-up. First things, first. But, that could be reading.
Silly me, thinking I can bribe or shame myself into doing things.